


Give Me Comfort

by GenerallyHuxurious (GallifreyanOmnishambles)



Series: Modern Emperors [9]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Bad Weather, Caring, Childhood Trauma, Come Eating, Come Sharing, Compatibility, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gentle Sex, Gentleness, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Phobias, Realization, Repressed Memories, Self-cest, Sharing a Bed, Temperature Play, Thunder and Lightning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 21:59:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9036011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GallifreyanOmnishambles/pseuds/GenerallyHuxurious
Summary: Modern Emperors AU. Lieutenant General Auren Hux has never spoken to anyone about the fall of Arkanis and the death of his mother. There's been no reason to remember it, until he finds himself lost in time and living in a city with a climate just like Arkanis. There had been a thunderstorm the day the Rebels destroyed the Academy. There is a thunderstorm over Seattle now. Fortunately for Hux he has his Likeness, the assassin Eamon Hux sleeping just upstairs, where he might find comfort.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fedaykin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fedaykin/gifts).



> Merry Christmas to the wonderful Fedaykin. 
> 
> This fic has been one of my mental cornerstones for this AU, so I'm glad its only taken me three months to finally write the thing.

The first time it happened it took Auren a minute or two to recognise what woke him.

He'd been on this planet for just over a month and he believed that he had become accustomed to the rain that fell forty percent of the time in this wet northern city. Still the rumble of thunder across the sky above the Sound outside his windows was new but sickeningly familiar. 

He'd watched lightning storms from orbit a thousand times, revelling in the sheer power of the atmospheric electrical discharges. But those had been rendered silent by the extreme distance. He had only one direct sensory memory of the sonic booms that accompanied those branching horrifying symbols of nature's power.

After 25 years it should have faded but as he lay there, eyes fixed on the blank expanse of ceiling above him, he found that it still held all its former crystal clarity.

It'd had be a rotten tactic on the part of the Rebels and their newly reformed Republic. Arkanis had always had spectacular storms that could rage for days- they'd used one such storm and the cover of night to disguise the sound of their approaching x-wings. The atmospheric turmoil had hidden the arrival of their orbital support ships from the staff at the academy and its surrounding civilian conurbation. They had given no warning and shown no mercy.

Thunder rolled across the Puget Sound, reflecting off the hill behind the house. Auren was out of bed and climbing the stairs before he'd even realised he was moving.

His senses were painfully focused, uselessly seeking out the discord of x-wings or the familiar shriek of his TIE fighters under the shifting boom that seemed to come from directly above the house. No one knew he was here on this planet. No one who might seek to kill his host would ever arrive in such a way. There were barely a handful of vessels able to leave this planet's atmosphere. To expect to hear the ships that destroyed his childhood home was irrational. Auren hated irrationality. Still his feet carried him up the stairs.

He could almost feel it on his skin again, the cold rain falling hard enough to bruise, bouncing back from the ground the soak him a second time, the sting of shrapnel against his back, the hot splash of blood from above and the loss of the hand that had held his...

No.

Stop.

The door to Eamon's room opened easily under his fingers. He wasn't being stealthy- moving with deliberate steps so the other man, the other Hux, the other him, would know who approached.

He was asleep, stretched out on his back, the sheets tangled about his knees. Auren stared, his breathing far more carefully controlled than his heart rate. He was beautiful. Of course he was, Auren corrected, his lips twitching up despite his distraction, he's you. There was something so unbearably tempting about Eamon's fine lines; the smoothness of the muscles that Auren had never managed to achieve; the freckled, gold dusted skin so free of scars. He was wearing only form fitting underwear, too dark in the gloom of his bedroom to tell the colour but wonderful all the same in that they did nothing to hide his perfection.

Lightning flickered outside the window once more and Auren saw the telltale sparkle of Eamon’s eyes under the sweep of golden eyelashes.

Eamon wasn't asleep at all. He was watching through heavy lidded eyes while he waited for Auren to give some hint of the reason for his presence. There was no reason to move, no need to sit up and ask questions when he'd tell him soon enough.

The lightning's shock wave reached them and Auren crossed the room to the bed, his fingertips lightly pressing the door closed behind him as he went. Eamon didn't move from his relaxed position as Auren crawled slowly up his body, though he could feel the hitch in his breathing as he licked a leisurely stripe from hip bone to diaphragm.

A gentle hand settled on his left shoulder, slowly kneading at his scars while he kissed and licked his way along the exposed line of his throat and across his stubble roughened jaw. Eamon was so warm despite the lack of covers, the relaxing drowsiness of sleep still clinging to his limbs. The other hand languidly settled into his hair, urging him up to claim a kiss from his own plump lips. He'd always known they were one of his best features, had received so many compliments on the myriad things they could do, but he'd never really understood it until they were slotted so flawlessly together with his own.

Idly his right hand drifted down towards another of his oft praised features, his listless pace matching Eamon's own sleep addled movements. He suspected it was a feign, that the other man was just as awake as he was, but slow and sleepy and silent was what he wanted right now. Somehow he knew that Eamon knew that.

He felt Eamon's hips twitch as his fingers eased beneath his waistband, stroking gently along the crease from his hip bone towards his testicles. The pace was deliberately teasing- he was enjoyed the small flexes of the muscles against his nails as much as the anticipation.

The room was lit again when another fork of lightning crawled across the sky allowing them to share a look in the momentary brightness that said more than a hundred conversations might have done.

Auren was already easing down the bed when the thunder followed, his hands tugging Eamon's underwear down with him. The hands in his hair and on his shoulder followed his progress but didn't push or cajole. There was no assumption of control from the man beneath him, just acquiescence.

His lips twitched slightly when he felt Eamon's feet shift to kick away the underwear from around his shins, his knees settling into a more spread position once he was free. Auren fit into the space between them perfectly, the soft hairs of Eamon's calves just brushing his feet where he knelt folded in on himself. The mattress shifted slightly as Eamon tensed at the breath ghosting across the hot flesh of his cock.

Auren didn't need any light for this. His lips found the head with practiced familiar ease. Sucking gently at the glans he let his eyes drift shut, savouring the fingers stroking endlessly through his hair, his hands sliding along smooth wiry thighs to wrap underneath and grip unforgivingly around Eamon's waist.

He loved this. He loved the weight and the texture against his tongue. The satisfaction of taking a cock to the very hilt and keeping it there until his vision blackened at the edges and his heart pounded in his ears. The control of being able to bring his partner to the point of orgasm again and again with so simple an act. His hands free to roam wherever they wished, to drag pleasure from other places and create contrasting rhythms to keep his partners guessing.

Eamon arched up from the mattress as he relaxed his jaw and sank down until he felt that delicious stretch at the back of his throat. He liked to start with that, the reminder of just how much he could take and how easily. He swallowed once, hard. The fingers in his hair tightened and twisted for a second before returning to their stroking pattern. Easing back he set to licking slow swirling bands up the length of Eamon's cock, pausing each time he reached the thick vein at the underside to tease with gentle suction that increased as he approached the head.

This had been a favourite occupation of his at the academy and as a junior officer, but as he'd risen through the ranks there had been fewer candidates who were comfortable with a superior getting onto his knees, despite the mutual pleasure involved. His submissive little Lieutenant Mitaka had tried, but it was not in his nature to receive such attentions and those encounters were invariably disappointing.  The pool of willing participants had shrunk to barroom pickups by the time he'd been made Brigadier. There had been an assumption amongst a lesser class of officer that receiving such ministrations placed one in a position of power. That taking a cock into one's mouth was an act of submission. Auren disagreed. It could be of course, but for him, never. He had control here, he had the power to bring the most sublime pleasure, and the teeth to punish any attempt to dominate him.

Not that he would need such tactics here.

Because Eamon, Eamon was something else. Delightfully vocal and marvellously responsive, Auren had found that he could play him like an instrument, once he'd persuaded him to take direction.

Such as now. He knew Eamon wanted to cry out. He could feel it in the tensing of his limbs and twitch of his ribs against his fingers. But he didn't.

Auren lapped around the head in slow focused movements. Above him Eamon whimpered. He worked his tongue into the slit, sucking fiercely as precome pulsed into his mouth. Eamon gasped.

Allowing his eyes to close Auren loosened his jaw, encouraging the bulk of Eamon's cock to enter his throat with subtle side to side movements, easing down deeper and deeper until his nose pressed firmly against his public bone. Again the lightning flickered.

Looking up through long lashes he hollowed his cheeks and rubbed his tongue firmly against as much as he could reach. Abdominals spasming Eamon raised his head just long enough to mutter a heartfelt 'fuck'. Keeping eye contact Auren began a series of shallow brutal pulses, fucking the back of his own throat against Eamon's cock.

Eamon's entire body clenched, his legs lifting to frame Auren's head whilst his fingers scrabbled at his hair. If his thighs covered Auren's ears at just the moment that thunder shook the room, it was surely pure coincidence.

The greatest joy in this fledgling arrangement was how well he knew the body beneath him. For all that they had lived very different lives this body was still his own and he knew it's subtle signs and hints. Against his chin and bottom lip he felt the slightest twitch of Eamon’s sac and knew he was close.

Too soon.

Auren wasn't done with him yet.

Pulling back and shaking free of the fingers in his hair he twisted his head to sink his teeth into the tendons of the knee to his left. Above him Eamon covered his face with a pillow and groaned in frustration.

Grinning to himself against Eamon's lightly furred thigh Auren decided this would be his rhythm. He nipped again at his leg, leaving a trail of red marks down towards his hip until Eamon pulled the pillow away to stare at him. He immediately descended back into his cock with a deliberately lascivious stroke of his tongue. Eamon moaned, a sound so deep in his chest Auren felt it more through his fingers than his ears.

For forty long sublime minutes he brought Eamon to the edge, dragging hissed swear words from bloody bitten lips, his sweat dewed body writhing in an increasingly desperate need to reach the orgasm Auren was denying.

But no man's stamina can last forever.

Eventually Eamon's body slackened, his movements reduced to the slightest of twitches. The gently petting fingers returned, stroking soft lines across his cheeks. The storm had worn itself out, leaving the room almost silent without the pounding of the rain and the crash of the thunder. There was only the deep laboured breathing of the man beneath him, the muted wet sounds of his own mouth and a rasping as fingernails caught against the slight stubble on his cheeks. It was peaceful. It was precisely what he'd wanted.

The cock in his mouth was burning hot and so hard it had to be approaching painful. Eamon's balls were tight against his body and every beat of the pulse against his tongue seemed to draw out another bead of liquid. Opening his eyes Auren could just see how disheveled Eamon looked in the darkness, his entire chest flushed deeply red. It wouldn't take much now. How beautiful he would look when he finally came.

Leaning into the fingertips against his face Auren shifted once to nudge the head against the side of his mouth, letting Eamon feel himself through the flesh of his cheek. Eamon whined.

Auren watched his face intently as he let his lips slacken, drawing in a breath of cold air. Brows furrowed Eamon's abs clenched, his hips tipping up enough to press his glans more firmly into Auren's cheek.

There are many words it was impossible to say around a mouth stuffed full of cock but still Auren managed to groan out Eamon's name, making it long and deep and low. Eamon came, both hands gripping Auren's face as he pulsed heavy spurts of come onto his tongue.

Auren didn't swallow, holding the bitter salty liquid in his mouth until Eamon's grip released, then, once the other man met his gaze with glassy unfocused eyes, he drew back. Mouth slack around his shaft he pulled slowly away, allowing pearly white strings to stretch in his wake, painting his lips and chin until he finally pulled free. Eamon's cock bounced once against his jaw, snapping the trails of come to smear across his face.

"Oh fuck, Auren," Eamon sighed, hands carding fitfully through Auren's hair as one last spurt splashing across his smiling lips.

When Eamon's head dropped back onto the bed Auren wiped the come away with the back of his hand, then licked it clean before turning to give Eamon's softening cock the same treatment.

The man beneath him was asleep before he finished the job. The slow pulse of his heart against his ear soon lured Auren after him, but for a little while. Within an hour he was back in his own bed again. 

* * *

Almost a year had passed since Auren had first arrived on this strange planet and found his way into the arms of his likeness. Eamon had spoken of them doing something together to celebrate the anniversary, but tonight there were experiments that needed to be watched, time sensitive mixtures that couldn't be left unattended without risking the house. Of course Auren hadn't told Eamon exactly how dangerous they were, just that they shouldn't be abandoned. it didn't really matter- the assassin’s target for today was not been all that interesting. Auren understood the professional appeal of a stealthy mission but it wasn't enough to tempt him out of the house. He much preferred a show.

But as the hours dragged on he came to regret the decision. It was well after midnight by the time he had completed his work and Eamon had not come home. There was nothing to do but wander regretfully in the direction of his own bed. 

Clouds were gathering over the city heavy and threatening when he paused at the french doors to look out towards the Piett. He couldn't tell whether the lights in Eamon’s hotel suite were lit or not at this distance. Not without the aid of binoculars at least. Was he up there looking out towards the house? Was he driving home? Was he loitering in a bar somewhere, still waiting to slip his blade into the target’s belly? 

Auren checked his phone. No calls. No texts. No suggestive photographs. 

Disappointed, he closed the curtains and headed into his quarters. 

Eamon had changed Auren's bedroom shortly after their first Christmas together. He'd claimed that the furthest room in the basement- with its large windows facing out onto the wide expanse of the Puget Sound- had needed refurbishing and so they had moved Auren’s things into the middle room. The new room was unique amongst all the rooms in the house because it lacked any external windows. Instead it had a pair of frosted glass doors that opened into the corridor. When the curtains in the rest of basement were closed the room had no natural light. It was almost like being back on a Star Destroyer. It was perfect.

Before his head even touched the pillows the faint but distinctive crunch of Eamon’s Rolls Royce pulling into the garage echoed down from three storeys above him. 

Auren sat in the dark, tracking Eamon’s movements as he passed through the house- quick bare feet bouncing down the stairs and towards the kitchen; the opening of the freezer door; a tinkling of glasses; a pause. 

Would he come down to the basement? The lights were off, the house was silent- it certainly looked as though Auren was asleep. It made sense that he wouldn't disturb him. But perhaps Eamon would still have enough post-kill adrenaline in his veins to come looking for some entertainment. 

The feet went back up towards Eamon’s room, taking the stairs two at a time.

Perhaps not then.

There were muffled sounds from the bathroom for a few minutes, water rushing through the shared pipes, and then silence. 

_ Well, good night then Eamon _ , he thought and rolled over, his fingers seeking out the object hidden beneath his pillow. 

Auren wasn't sure why but he didn't want Eamon to know he still had it, the strange gift that Eamon had purchased for him as a joke during a visit to the labyrinthine furniture store. Allegedly it represented a heart with arms, but Auren had never seen a heart shaped like that. It was odd and served no purpose, but still- Eamon had bought it for him, joke or not. It was his and he would keep it. The soft fabric hand fitted delicately between his fingers; for some reason that soothed him when he was alone.

Auren had almost drifted off when the house shook with the first thunderclap. The clouds he'd seen forming over Seattle were crossing the Sound and dragging a thunderstorm in their wake. 

Without the accompanying flashes of light, and the adrenaline rush of being woken by the noise, Auren found the storm far less distressing. Moving his sleeping arrangements to this room had been an excellent idea. The entire thing with the storms was an irrational reaction and he was glad to be free of it. It simply wouldn't do for a man of his experience to find himself disturbed by atmospheric phenomena. 

The last few times it happened Auren told had himself he would stay in his own corner room, that he was used to it, that he had watched storms from the city's rooftops with no ill effect and he could do so here too. But his resolve was soon eroded by the the flicker of light at the windows and promise of peace that was waiting just a few short flights of stairs away. So he would always find himself in the sublime embrace of warm thighs and gentle hands.

It was a strange arrangement for all the lascivious excesses of their every day interactions. He never came himself in these situations for all that Eamon writhed, unbearably beautiful and tempting beneath him. He rarely even got hard, his own satisfaction coming from the act and Eamon's response. The relief he gained from hearing the heartbeat beneath his ear slow and relax into sleep, dragging his own heart with it, was more to him than an orgasm he might achieve a hundred other ways. It was different. Somehow it felt sacred.

He invariably fell asleep there, his head pillowed on Eamon's hip or stomach, but he always woke before the dawn and, with the proper manners of First Order officer, he always left his lover to sleep on.

Three peals of thunder rang out in quick succession to break the reverie, the familiar hum of the backup generator following soon after. The power was out. 

Eamon had only just come home. He would still be awake. Perhaps he would be expecting Auren to come to him. 

Auren should probably go up. Just to check on him. 

He took the stairs one at a time, in no hurry to reach his goal. 

The house was in darkness but Eamon's bed was empty. It hadn’t been touched at all. In fact the sheets still neatly tucked in place with Auren’s own military corners. Where had he gone?

It was the strobing flicker of multiple lightning strikes that finally drew Auren’s eye towards the smaller sitting room beyond Eamon’s bed. Positioned at the corner of the house two storeys above his former bedroom it also had two massive windows that usually offered fantastic views towards the city. Now that the rain was lashing against the glass they only served to silhouette the figure lounging in the armchair half hidden by the darkness.

Eamon was sipping whiskey from a ice-filled tumbler, his limbs loose, his hair ruffled. A second glass rested on a casually crossed knee that showed just how naked he was beneath his loosely tied robe. 

Meeting Auren’s eye he raised the glass of amber liquid in a nonchalant salute.

“I heard the forecast.”

His words were pitched low but just loud enough to carry over the storm outside.

Eamon had come home, and set himself up here, all for Auren. He'd heard that a storm was coming and he'd made sure he would be available if Auren needed him.

It was all Auren could do to nod in silence and cross the room with quick strides to fall to his knees at Eamon's feet. 

When had anyone done anything like this for him? Who, before Eamon, had stopped to think about his needs and changed their plans accordingly? Who but Eamon; who had saved his life; who had taken him in when he had nothing; who had given him everything he needed to succeed on this planet; who offered up his body, his mind, his affections…

Eamon's cock was resting thick and heavy on his tongue before Auren had even registered that he'd opened the dark cotton robe in front of him. Instantly warm thighs settled against his shoulders, letting Auren tilt Eamon’s body while they blocked out every noise but the thumping of their hearts.

With both hands occupied with his drinks, Auren quickly realised that Eamon had surrendered his only real means of control. Though he feigned a cool disinterest when he sipped slowly at the whiskey Auren could see the sweat beading across his chest and hear the slow acceleration of his pulse. Twice Auren managed to make him splutter around a mouthful with some underhand tactic or other, but he didn't count it as a victory until an unexpected slide of teeth over his glans finally caused him to slosh the spirit down his chest and across Auren’s face.

Of course then there was nothing for it but to lick him clean, chasing droplets of whiskey over peaked and sensitive nipples until Eamon was all but begging him with the needy roll of his hips.

Settling back between his thighs, Auren gazed up at him, both of them breathing just as hard as the other. With a deliberate curl of his lips Auren engulfed the head of Eamon’s cock once more and was rewarded with a moan.

Eamon looked so beautiful, head flung back to stretch his throat as he stared at the ceiling. His enthusiasm for Auren’s mouth had caused him to slid half out of the chair, his ass now overhanging the seat. Moving ever so gradually- softly enough that Eamon might not even realise what he was doing- Auren let his fingers drifted along the seam of Eamon’s balls, intending to tease the tight pink furl of his entrance and perhaps work him open for later...

Instead he felt the telltale slickness of lubricant. He groaned around Eamon's cock, pushing it deeper into his throat as his fingers wriggled towards the… oh yes, the wonderfully slack ring of muscle. Eamon had prepared himself for him. The simple fact of it wasn't all that unusual for them- Auren wasn't known for his patience at times- but right now, in this beautifully orchestrated scenario… it went straight to the base of Auren’s cock, sending shivers through his frame that set Eamon to writhing. 

Taking his time with this was no longer an option.

Pulling deliberately off Eamon’s cock, Auren turned to the second full glass of whiskey and opened his mouth. His fingers hadn't stopped their exploration in the meantime and Eamon's left hand trembled as he tried to pour the cold liquid past Auren’s lips. 

His shirt was soaked by the time he sat back, but he had the mouthful of ice cold, peaty spirit he’d been hoping for, and by the whining in Eamon’s throat his fingers had found their target. 

“Ooooh my god, Auren…” It was almost a prayer as he engulfed the head of Eamon’s cock once more, swirling the liquid in his mouth while he circled Eamon’s slit and prostate in a counterpoint rhythm. 

Hot cum coiled over his tongue through the eddies, mixing Eamon’s unique salty flavour with the earth tones of the spirit. It was divine. He really should share just how good it was…

Eamon seemed to realise his purpose, leaning forward to meet his rising lips even as his fingers closed around Auren’s wrist. There was a soft shaky smile gracing his lips when Auren eased them open to flood his mouth with cum and whiskey. He moaned with pleasure all the same.

Trailing sticky kisses along his jawline Auren let his fingers slip free as he leaned in to murmur against the shell of his ear.

“Bed. Now.”

Eamon drew back to look at him, soft rose gold eyebrows crinkling slightly as he glanced towards a blanket covered bench beside them. Clearly he hadn't intended to go quite that far.

That wouldn't do. 

Determined to have his own way, Auren lured him from his seat with gentle teasing fingers across his ribs and lingering kisses that stole the breath from both of them. 

There was something oddly disconcerting in caressing Eamon’s naked form while he remained fully dressed. The textures of soft skin, slick thighs and shifting muscles felt strange without his own nerves to follow the signals. They were too similar. It was like an out of body experience, thrilling at first before it shifted toward disorientating. 

Eamon clearly agreed as he tugged at Auren’s t-shirt, trying to ease his fingers under the fabric to reach the scarred slope of his thin shoulders. After a moment of struggling Auren took pity and stepped back. The shirt wasn't his- very little in this house was- he'd commandeered it from Eamon’s hamper that morning when the assassin had announced his plan to go into the city. It took some peeling off his slightly softer frame, a pause that Eamon took advantage of to slip his hands into the waistband of Auren’s pants.

Auren grinned behind the t-shirt fabric as Eamon hummed his approval at his lack of underwear. 

“Bed.” Auren murmured again, stepping out his pants to crowd Eamon back against the edge of the mattress.

“Make me.” 

The smirk lasted only a moment before Eamon’s back hit the bed, the breath knocked out of him with an oof. Perhaps he'd been expecting Auren to persuade him, or to shove him backward at the most. He certainly hadn't expected to be bearhugged and bodily thrown onto the mattress with Auren following after. 

It wasn't elegant, but it was certainly effective, and it placed Auren precisely where he wanted to be- between Eamon’s thighs, with one knee hooked over his elbow and Eamon’s gasping mouth at his mercy. 

One day he'd teach Eamon the finer points of wrestling by the Imperial Rules, but for now he'd take full advantage of the chance to surprise the meticulously trained assassin. It was one of his favourite things to do with Eamon Hux, his beautiful, perfect wonderful doppelgänger, his own, his sphalerite, his Likeness. To see those pale blue eyes widen in pleased shock; to feel his muscles tense for an instant before they relaxed back into instinctive trust; to hear him gasp and sigh and chuckle at the back of his throat.

Smiling around the searching kisses Auren flexed his hips, his free hand drifting down to guide him.

There it was, that blissful sigh and happy murmur as his glans nudged at Eamon’s slick warm entrance.

The storm was moving off now, the thunder mostly gone and the lightning turning muted with the distance, but the brief glow came at just the right moment to show him the shift of Eamon’s muscles as he eased in. The tightening of his lower back, the ripple of this belly as he tensed against the strain. The slow exhale and gradual relaxation into the stretch. Eamon's body welcoming Auren home as if no two beings in all the world could ever fit together quite so perfectly. And how could they? How could anyone else know him as Eamon knew him? They were the same- the same mind, the same body, the same soul. 

Eamon groaned, his arms coming up to wrap around Auren’s shoulders as his hips edged forward, driving slowly deeper. 

Although he'd been gripped by a sense of urgency at the discovery of Eamon’s preparations, now that he was sinking into that hot tight passage Auren was struck with a need to savour the moment. He slowed even further than before, the steady shallow thrusts stretching the body beneath him millimetre by millimetre. 

The strong arms around his back tensed at first, Eamon’s hands clutching at anything he could reach in an effort to make him move. But he soon acquiesced when Auren’s incremental thrusts finally brought him into contact with his sweet spot.

Eamon had been mostly soft when Auren eased into him- sticky and spent from his earlier attentions- but now Auren could feel him stirring against his belly. Smiling against Eamon's neck Auren set to driving him mad with gentle stimulation.

“Auren, you… ahhh… you  _ fuck… _ ” Eamon moaned, turning his head to pepper Auren’s cheekbones with kisses, one for every thrust, one for every twitch of his muscles and every gasp dragged from his lungs.

It wasn't the most athletic or or vigorous coupling, the long slow slide of their hips the only real movement as they lay pressed tightly together, but it felt like the closest they had ever been. Eamon had hooked his raised leg over Auren’s hip, his stretched out foot holding them together at the ankles. One of his hands was in Auren’s hair, the other keeping their chests pressed close while Auren’s fingers stroked along his jawline and over the place where they were joined.

He couldn't physically get any deeper into the man spread beneath him but it still didn't seem like enough to sooth the ache in his chest. The feeling wasn't pain as such, just gratitude and affection on a level he'd never even imagined he could experience. He couldn't articulate it, not with words, not even to this being who understood him like no one else ever could. 

The best he could do was to show him how he felt with soft gentle caresses and kisses so deep that they left them both dizzy. 

Ghostly touches that had them writhing; nails scratching over skin at just the moment to hold off the cresting pleasure; nipping bites mean to draw it to the surface; and always, always pressing deeper- a single entity in two bodies doing all that it could to become whole once more. 

He couldn't say that either of them came first, it was such a gradual thing, the slightest tensing of Eamon’s muscles dragging Auren over the edge into freefall, the slick slide between sweat soaked bellies finally too much for Eamon to hold against. Bliss rolled over them both in waves that broke them apart and formed them anew.

It was silent, this completion, tongues buried deep in one another's mouth as soft endless pulses painted their bodies in pleasure. There was nothing that needed to be said.

* * *

The sun had risen hours before. It must have done for the light to be glittering so perfect and clear from the water just beyond the house. He let his eyes drift shut again, uncaring about the world.

He was warm. He was content. His limbs were heavy and spent and he couldn't think of anything more wonderful than this feeling of floating with his chest pressed tight to Eamon’s spine…

Eamon… 

Auren opened his eyes again to see the tangled mess of Eamon’s morning hair mere centimetres from his nose. 

Slowly his body reported its other findings to him- the flaking mess smeared across his stomach, the damp patch under his hip, Eamon's hand tangled with his own where they rest against the smooth line of his stomach.

He'd stayed the whole night. For the first time in three decades he'd actually…

“Mmm g'morning.” Eamon sighed, pressing back against Auren’s body. He was warm and soft and pliant and so so perfect.

“Good morning.”

Auren pressed a kiss to Eamon’s neck and mused that there really was no where else he'd rather be in that moment. In any moment in fact.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes Auren Hux owns a [Famnig Hjärta from IKEA](http://www.ikea.com/us/en/catalog/products/10036433/). I bet you didn't see that coming...


End file.
